rshort1202

I walk up to a small bar counter in a small room. The room seems mainly to be for some standing space and the counter. I think there is a window with a view behind the counter or a little off to the side, adding some hazy sunlight. A few moments after I situate myself at the counter, a clean cut and conventionally attractive bartender turns his attention to me. He makes eye contact and lifts his chin as a way of asking what he can get for me. The menu seems to be hanging and is in two sections. Each option is a wine, but each is the name of a place. I tell him I see that the options are names of places and not varietals, and I ask what he would recommend given that. I am confident in what I am saying, but I’m still self conscious of my voice. There are people on either side of me, and it feels like their attention is on me and what I’m saying. The man asks what I’m looking for, and I say a white because of the hot weather. He asks what kind of flavors, and I say probably something more creamy than tart and something more sweet than not, but not cloyingly so. I end up saying quite a few flavors to where it still makes sense but is not very specific. He asks me to narrow it down, and I say ‘just not a red.’ he and the couple to my left start laughing. Self conscious, I ask what’s so funny. Amber from Sephora is here now and telling the man “babe, be nice.”





I am in a smaller house that seems to only have basic furniture and no adornments. There is a couple that calls me (from the house across the street I think). The woman is describing a ‘medical emergency’ that really doesn’t sound like one. They want me to do something about it, but I’m trying to talk it down and get out of it. They still end up coming over here, into the bedroom I am in. the woman, with dark hair and eye makeup, starts reprimanding me about the nature of the ‘emergency’ and my reluctance to remedy it. It sounds like the guy, what is here but not saying anything, only scratched his finger, I think from the pin part on an EAS tag. I apologize, empathize, and just nicely tell her what she wants to hear. She’s fairly understanding but still comes off like she thinks she is so in the right. I let her think that but still think it’s puerile. They then leave, I think on good terms.





I am in an unfamiliar city, on a bike. There are buildings either way I could go on this street. I know I need to go somewhere, but I’m not sure where and I’m not sure which way to go. I just follow my gut feeling and it turns out to be right. I am riding along the sidewalk, slightly downhill. It looks like the road is turning into a bridge over water. The sidewalk is divided down the middle by little white markers standing up. Everyone is to the right, and they all seem to be going slow. The bridge seems to be more of a flat expanse now, the road blending into the sidewalk, blending into a smaller barrier at the edge. We seem to be right at water level or just barely above it. The water is bright and clear, soft sunlight brilliantly reflecting upon it. The whole scene is beautiful and slightly surreal. For some reason, I think this is London.